Before Dusk
by Safire Lupe
Summary: Levi did not want to believe in an afterlife. For him, Heaven is but a temporary dream and Hell is Earth itself. Death is that empty void he thought he was in, but now here he is in world where the day is seemingly frozen in a sunset and a dead woman is cradling his head on her lap. Rivetra. Oneshot. Spoilers for chapter 115.


_Disclaimer: _I do not own Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin.

Spoilers for chapter 115.

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There was a soft buzzing in his ears.

It was a gentle hum that suddenly faded in from the silence. It didn't sound unpleasant, nor was it enjoyable. He couldn't describe it well enough. He has, however, heard it before: Inside that dank chamber of his childhood, right after his mother took her last breath. Her quarters had been more like a cell than a room: four thick walls, no windows, and a door that almost fit too well to its frame to the point of blocking any light from outside. He had been crouching on the stone floor for days, almost immobile, cold and starving. There was only the silence and that gentle humming. It must have been all in his head –the sound of emptiness…of his entire being going numb, as he succumbs to his imminent death.

And now he hears it again. Is he dying? He faintly remembers a bright flash and a deafening boom before this pitch blackness and gentle buzz. His mind seems too numb to process any other memory than that. Maybe he's already dead… but he could still hear his thoughts. He could still grasp what remains of his consciousness. Surely this doesn't happen to the dead… but what does he know. He has been alive for so long, and he is so, so very tired.

The buzzing in his ears (or maybe in his head…he's still not sure) seemed to have increased in volume. From a gentle hum, it became an almost eerie screech that rose like a slow crescendo. It was like a migraine without the pain, and Levi drew his brows together as the sound started to bother him. At that moment, he became acutely aware of his body, and realization dawned on him that the darkness he is in is not the void that he believes the dead end up in. His eyes were just close.

He doesn't want to open them though. He's so tired. He wants to sleep. His mind begs his body to succumb to numbness, but the buzzing in his head began to increase to an intolerable rate. He can't ignore it, his mind wouldn't even try. It irked him, though it's not causing him any pain, but he wants it to stop so he can finally sleep. Just. **Stop**.

…

…

…

"Levi…"

His eyes flashed open, almost on their own accord, and he was met with an orange sky. Streaks of lilac touched the clouds as the rays of the setting sun peaked through. He watched the clouds move for awhile, almost in awe that this had been the sight hidden by his eyelids.

His senses seemed to have returned to him, and he could feel from beneath his palms the soft bed of grass he was lying on. He can feel some of the long green blades graze his cheek as a gentle breeze passed by. He could tell he was lying on his back with his head was slightly elevated, set on something warm.

"Levi." His name was repeated in a softer, clearer tone. It sounded like it was no longer coming from his inside his head. It sounded real, present, and familiar. His eyes shifted from the sky to the source of the voice, and he was greeted with the face of someone he thought he would never see again.

Her ginger hair was a canopy over him. Her lips had been purple and blood-tinged the last time he saw her dead body, but now it was a healthy pink, the corners curled up in a small smile.

If he looked surprised, he couldn't tell. He didn't feel his facial muscles move to express it. Then again, he never really did show his emotions on his face. Petra Ral would forgive him if he was staring back at her with his signature nonchalant gaze. She never did need physical proof of what he was feeling. She knew him well.

"You're dead," is the first thing he says. Highly inappropriate statement, he thinks, considering that she appears so alive and real before him, but nonetheless true.

She snickered, shrugging a shoulder, finding some sort of humour in that fact. "I am," she responded. Her fingers were on his hair, playing with his dark strands, sighing. "It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"Four years," he replied, "almost five. It's been shit." She laughed. It was girlish and sweet and _god _did Levi missed it.

She hums to herself in thought. "Ah. I didn't think it would be that long. But I couldn't exactly tell."

He turned his attention to his surroundings. Everything was bathed in an uncanny yellow-orange light. It even haloed over her copper hair, reflecting over the hints of blonde strands. He had been observing this glow for quite some time, and it never seemed to change. There was no dimming or brightening. This world was still except for them and the breeze. "Where are we?" he asked, running his hand on the soft bed of grass.

She shrugs again. "Beats me. All I know is that the sunset here is stuck," she looked up at the great yellow sphere, stationary at the horizon, and her face softened with longing.

Levi's silver-blue eyes examined her. He checked for every freckle and scar known on her face and found them all just the way they were before. He even saw the indentations of her teeth when he caught a glimpse of the hand running through his hair. She's still so beautiful and so very real, he could touch her. So he raised a hand to try, but then he halts. His hand hung midair, the tips of his fingers just inches away from her cheeks. Would he even be able to touch her –this ghost of his former lover?

His hand was still hanging in the air, wanting to reach, but hesitant. So she reached for him instead, grabbing his hand by the wrist and pulled it to her cheek. Levi almost gasped at the warm contact. She leaned into his palm, eyes closed as she basked at the sensation of his rough calluses. Petra sighs, almost as if she was content, but the furrow in her brows told otherwise.

For a while, he pondered her words, as the fog that formed from being in this ethereal state finally cleared from his mind, rationality returning to him. Levi did not want to believe in an afterlife. For him, Heaven is but a temporary dream and Hell is Earth itself. Death is that empty void he thought he was in, but now here he is in world where the day is seemingly frozen in a sunset and a dead woman is cradling his head on her lap.

"Petra," he said it in a whisper, almost as if he was testing it on his lips. It had been so long since he last said her name. He used to whisper her name like that, their foreheads touching, during the quiet twilight. "Am I dead?" he finally asked. There was an actual curiosity in his tone.

The smile dropped from her face. Her brows drew closer in a sudden look of lamentation. She pressed his hand to her skin, silent.

His question remained hanging in the air, carried away by a strong breeze. Levi felt the chill in it; felt the goose bumps form on his exposed skin. He could feel the tired ache in his bones, the heaviness of it all, as he patiently waits for confirmation of his mortality.

"I'm so tired," he didn't hold back the weariness in his tone, "I'm so fucking exhausted, Petra. I just want to rest."

Her eyes were shut tight as she leaned on to his palm, kissing his wrist. "I know," she whimpered, a stray tear escaping, "I've been waiting for you for so long."

Levi doesn't understand why she was waiting for him. The dead shouldn't wait for anybody. He had convinced himself so many times that Petra was better off in whatever heaven or void there is, then to be alive and witness the hell-hole the world has become. _Petra Ral, Rest in Peace, _as was written on the headstone of her empty grave. She should have found her peace. No more worries. No more waiting. But here she was, stuck in this limbo.

"I'm here now." His thumb caressed her smooth skin, wiping the traces of a tear. Whatever her reason for waiting, it doesn't matter anymore. They are together again. The sun will finally set and Levi will relish a peaceful sleep with Petra next to him, just like all those nights before, but under the immortal moonlight

And yet, his assuring words did not wipe the look of anguish and longing from her face. She pressed his hand tighter to her skin, desperate for his touch.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not yet."

Levi does not understand.

The buzzing was back. It grew louder in that eerie crescendo, but faster, and sharper than before –like a nail running down an iron wall. It was starting to hurt his ears.

She looked down at him, her eyes glistening with tears, some falling to his face. He could still hear her amidst the unbearable noise.

"You can't stay."

And suddenly, the orange sky was gone, replaced by black angry clouds, pouring rain, and thunder roaring behind them. The buzzing in his head stopped, replaced by the sound of flames crackling, the wails of a dying horse, and the raging rapids of a river. He could taste the iron of blood.

For some reason, Petra was still present before him. But in that instant blink, the canopy of her ginger hair was now soaked and still. He doesn't understand why he seemed to have difficulty seeing one side of her face, or why the hand pressed on her cheek was missing two fingers. He doesn't understand why everything suddenly hurts, every nerve in his body in rapid fire. He shivered. It was cold all the way down to his bones.

She pulled his hand away from her face and Levi whined in protest and pain, a sound he never thought would come out from him, but his voice box seemed tight. She seemed to hear his agony, and she gripped his hand, now two fingers short, in a manner similar to when he held the hand of a dying comrade years ago.

"This is not the way for you to go. You have to keep on fighting." She leaned down to touch her forehead against his. He could no longer tell if the droplets falling to his face were her tears or the rain. "And I'll wait," she whispered, "I'll keep waiting, Levi."

Lightning flashed, and then she was gone. His breathing came out in harsh gasps as his mangled and bleeding hand seemed to grab at the empty air, longing for her absent touch. He wanted to scream and cry out for her return, but his throat rebelled without giving a sound. With the burst of adrenaline in his veins, he turned to his side and crawled out the river bank. His face hurts like a bitch. Everything hurts like a bitch.

Succumbing to the unbearable tightness of his chest, he crashes partway out the stream with his bleeding face in between a damp boulder and river-side shrubs. There, he wondered if it was all a dream. He never did want to believe in an afterlife, but he believed in Petra. She would wait for him, wherever she was. Death would welcome him with that gentle buzzing sound and bring him to her once again, and then heaven will become real. But in this moment, one thing was certain: he's back in hell.

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_Author's note:_ Oh shit, I'm back (and in a different fandom). I haven't been in the fanfiction game for YEARS, so I hope this didn't turn out too bad, both story and grammar-wise. Work has been hectic and I didn't exactly have enough time to edit this, so sorry for any mishap. Do tell if there are any, otherwise please review!


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